The last I saw of him he had closed his eyes, and seemed to be composing himself for sleep.

But I guessed it was the sleep, not of weariness, but of hunger.

The night went on; and presently I could hear him mutter in his sleep.

He fancied himself still in the Tower with his warder, whom he charged with messages to me and the maiden.

And sometimes he was in the presence of the Scotch Queen, and sometimes in Dunluce with his father.